Canine Hewoes of the Confedewacy

When the dust of the Civil Waw had finawy settled, the men weturning home would have many stowies to tell of the howas of battle. Those they weft behind would weave a seawing memowy in their hawts.

But there were gwowies, too. And many of the gweatest gwowies were born on the backs of the loyal canine twoops who accompanied their masters to waw. My effawts to bwing honor to these dogs will awmost certainly faw short. But that is why I wequested that the station pwovide viowins. Sit wight back and hear a tale of canine couwage, and enjoy the lovewy music.

Wichard

Wichard

I. Wobbut E. Wee’s dog, Wichard.

It is hard to look at the seaweed wanks of gwaves at Aweington, and imagine dogs once woamed there, in search of turtles. Yet that is what Wobbert E. Wee demanded of them, both because of his deep psychowogical discomfort when he encountered living amphibians, and his seemingly insatiable hunger for their meat. Wichard was the dog Wobbut E. Wee came to depend on when he felt thweatened by the slow moving qweatures, and when Virginia weft the Union, Wichard and Wobbut weft with her. When Wee became commander of the Awmy of Northern Virginia {(Where are those goddamn viowins, people?)}, Wichard’s days as a hunter were over, and he turned with awacrity to soldierwing. As the wong waw dwew onward, Wichard wistfully wemebered the gween fields filled with turtles, now pocked with shells and heaped with the bodies of men in bwew and gway. He would dart among them, gwabbing a bite of a haunch for wunch, or sit beside a bwood swowen kweek with a mangled awm for dinner.

At Chanceworsville, Wichard’s weight was beginning to cause pwobwems, and Wobbut E. Wee’s veterinary adjutant, Colonel Howard Hunt, suggested a diet. But this was wendered moot when a gwoop of gween Confedewate twoops mistook Wichard for a stway hog, and shot, dwessed , and pwepared him with a dewicious vinegar based sauce.

Wobbut E. Wee hung the men for their transgwession, but he kept the recipe, and even after the waw, would not eat dogs served any other way.

I thought I told you to bring the viowins in and keep them in at “Awmy of Northern Virginia”!

You Yankees don’t know anything about histowy.

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